Lifetimes Apart
by BlackPuma137
Summary: S2/3. Missing moments after Buffy takes Angel to the mansion and helps him recover. What suddenly reopened the doors to their relationship with each other? What was Buffy feeling?
1. New Homes

**New Homes**

She tried her best to make him comfortable on the couch, but no matter how many pillows she positioned under him, he winced. Not that a half dilapidated mansion is one for comfort, especially after dragging your ex-boyfriend from a high school closet all the way over here.

"Sorry, sorry," she muttered.

He grimaced. "It's alright, really." An awkward silence as Buffy stepped back from the couch.

There were too many unsaid things.

"Okay," Buffy said, going into high gear—as usual, whenever something like this happened. Do, don't think, and thus keep calm. It's what gave her enough strength to get him from the school to the mansion—she had decided his apartment was too far away. Angel was too weak to go all the way across town.

"Umm...I'll go get some...food, for you. If that's okay?" She was a little reluctant to leave him. As much as she had loved and trusted him...he had just come back from purgatory. Just came back after she had sent him into hundreds of years of torture. Just came back after a reign of terror. He could still be unstable, or need her somehow...

But then she did want to leave. She was full of shame, of guilt, and she wanted somehow to apologize, but what could she say? _I'm sorry I sent you into hundreds of years of hell because I had to carry out my duty as a Slayer. I'm sorry I couldn't pull myself together. _

_ I'm sorry I love you too much to bear. _

No, she had to get out. She couldn't stay anymore. Couldn't face the consequences of her mistake anymore. She wanted to cry, to collapse and break down; but what right did she have to break down in front of him?

"Yes," Angel nodded. "Food." He tried to get back up, but she took a step back quickly. He winced and leaned back down.

"Don't strain yourself," she said, and set off out of the mansion and into the night, glad for the cover of darkness as tears rolled down her cheek.


	2. Memories

**Memories**

Buffy made her way to his apartment slowly, feeling sluggish and heavy with emotion. When she reached his place, she headed straight for the fridge. There was still blood in it, but was there an expiration date on blood? She grabbed a few bags anyway and put them under her shirt.

_ No use making the neighbors think I'm any more crazy than I already am, _she thought. She resolved to go to the butcher as she returned to the mansion—maybe there was some way she could buy some cast-off blood from there? She knew from Angel's stories that animal blood could suffice.

As she made her way out, she tried not to look around much or breathe in too deeply, just as she had when she came in. There were too many memories here, and it still smelled so much like him.

Everything was as before: his clothes were still scattered around the room, there was the chair where she had complained so much about Ted and her mom, night after night...that corner where she constantly stubbed her toe, and made him laugh with her cursing and hopping antics. The table where he left his current reading material—usually five books at a time. She'd teased him often for that, calling him the vampire version of Giles. The bed, where they had made love...

Buffy sighed, and closed her eyes as another wave of tears nearly overcame her. She walked over to his books, unable to resist the apartment's memories anymore, and picked up a random one off to the side. Dictionnaire Francais. She smiled—he had tried so hard to teach a few words to her from it, but they had ended up laughing in a heap on the floor instead. So many memories.

Here, in the apartment, she felt about as old as him—it seemed their life together had been so long ago. And suddenly, as the weight of their predicament fell on her, she collapsed in the armchair, watching as her memories came over her and played out in the room before her.


	3. Wondering

**Wondering**

"Here," Buffy said, handing the brown bag over to him. "I wasn't sure if there was an expiration date on blood," she grinned nervously. "So I grabbed a couple of cans from the butcher."

"Thanks," he said softly. _Everything he did was subdued, somehow,_ she thought. She didn't have a clue of what to say or how to say it or what to do or how to do it. She stood before him, hands at her sides, nervously cracking her knuckles and playing with her hands.

A long, silent pause. "Umm, I also picked up some more clothes and books from your apartment. I know that you had some stuff here, but I thought maybe—I mean, since you're going to be—yeah. Okay. Babbling fool, party of one!" She raised her hand, then looked down when he didn't respond. "So, then, um, I'll just be going, I guess."

She turned to leave.

"Buffy?"

But she turned around again at Angel's voice.

"Can you..stay? While I sleep?" He looked up at her when she didn't respond.

"Sure," she whispered softly.

"Thanks," he muttered.

He was asleep in less than half an hour.

Buffy didn't know what to do, or feel, for that matter. For an entire summer, she had spent countless hour mourning him, almost turning delusional, for heaven's sake. She had missed him so much, craved him so many hours of the night...

But she had had to isolate her heart. She wouldn't be able to return and face her friends otherwise. She was hurt, confused. She had had to deal with Angelius' destruction, Angel's death, her betrayal...

Her betrayal. She felt so guilty, so shameful. But then the fact that she did feel guilty made her feel even more guilty—she was doing her job, after all. Right?

Right?

Once more, she wished her life was normal. Then she wouldn't have to deal with this. She could worry about things like Scott Hope.

Scott. What would she do with him? It wasn't like she was _actually_ successful at forgetting Angel. It wasn't like she had stopped loving Angel. But when he was gone, she could pretend. She could fool herself into thinking that she was alright, that one day she could just get swept away by someone else.

But now he was back. Now everything was different. Now, she was returning to her daydreams with a passion that surprised even her. She knew she was pushing everyone away a bit, getting farther and farther away from reality. She was getting testier, too—something that _only_ helped her slayer's life.

She loved him, and that complicated everything. She couldn't make sound judgments. And that was just unfair!

Especially considering how worried she was about him. How could she not be, when he was lying on the floor in front of her, a broken man? A broken man because of her.

He would pull through, she knew that. With her help, she knew that he could. He was strong. He had always had been.

She was just wondering where the hell things would stand once he did get better.

Could she make this relationship again? What if he left again—physically _or_ soul-wise? What if he couldn't get better? What if she had to lose him again?

Her heart ached.

Buffy felt plagued by so many thoughts and doubts, her mind kept running in circles.

But as she continued looked on his sleeping form, she realized the only coherent thing that she could make sense of was that she loved him.

And _that_ would never change.

(As much as that would complicate things.)


	4. Petty

**Petty**

Scott didn't ask her to homecoming.

He didn't ask her to homecoming.

Perhaps, as the slayer, she shouldn't really care. After all, what if something happened on the night of homecoming? It'd just be another excuse for her to make.

But he didn't even ask her to homecoming until Corde mentioned it.

It made her a bit testy.

That was probably why she mentioned Scott to Angel. It hadn't been her initial intention. It had slipped out, amid all the other confessions she made.

It was unfair to him. What should he care about her daily life? He was trying to recover from being sent to hell, after all. But she wanted him to know, for some reason, that she was trying to get over him. That she was moving on.

She figured she was trying to tell him because she was trying to convince herself. She didn't know what to, didn't have anyone to talk to, and so she wanted to tell him. Convince him. Mostly herself.

It didn't work as well as she would like. When you tell a broken man the details of your petty life, it doesn't exactly create an atmosphere full of sunshine and rainbows.

She felt petty. Especially as she was preparing for bed and taking off her—his jacket. He didn't know—how could he?-but she wore it almost every day. She felt even more petty when she realized Scott didn't ask her to homecoming until Corde mentioned it.

And that just made everything more confusing. Because she knew, inside herself, that she didn't care.

She just wanted Angel to get better. She just wanted him.

When Scott broke up with her the next day then, it was a shock. Now she had the proof that all she had on her mind was Angel. Now she had proof of how silly that relationship with Scott was. After all, she didn't feel too much of a loss at the time.

_I don't have an excuse not to be with him anymore, _she kept thinking.


	5. Worry

**Worry**

_Author's Note: So the beginning of this text is from the episode Band Candy; season three episode six. It never had the rest of the conversation; that's mine, but everything else belongs to the show/Joss Whedon/anybody but me. No copyright infringement intended. And please, review. Let me know someone else other than me is actually reading this._

Buffy could feel the exhaustion crawling over her with each minute. It had been a long few days, and it was late.

"I worry about you," stated Angel, disturbing the (only slightly awkward) silence.

"I worry about _you_."

"Naw...I'm getting stronger."

"Soon you won't even need me." Buffy gave a faint half-smile.

"That'd be better."

"Yeah," she nodded. _But that wouldn't be better,_ she thought. _Because then I'll have no idea what to do with you. With us. _She was afraid to bring him out of the mansion. She was afraid to face the consequences. Of everything.

This was straying into dangerous territory. The "smell me" thing. Their confessions. Him not having a shirt on. Buffy wasn't sure if she was ready yet. If she could jump into this relationship—she still felt so guilty. So confused.

There was a long, awkward pause after their confessions.

"It's alright, you know," he said, looking down. "You don't have to act like this before me."

"Act like what?" she half-smiled. "I'm not acting like anything. I'm fine. Perfectly fine. There is nothing wrong with me. In fact, I couldn't be any better if I-"

"Buffy, I know you. You act like nothing's wrong, and hey, that's how you do your job. You wouldn't be good at it if you didn't. But I know something's wrong."

"Are you saying that's wrong? That I'm not emotionally right? There's something wrong with me?" She began, in a defensive tone.

"Buffy, don't pretend with me."

Buffy wanted to cry. "How could you do this to me? How can you stand and rip down every defense I have, without a second thought? You always disarm me, and I always have to be vulnerable. Well, you know what? I'm sick of being the vulnerable one. And I hate that I _am_ the vulnerable one—the one who had to deal with being away from you, then the one that has to deal with-"

"Deal with sending me to hell?"

Buffy felt the tears well up and slide down her cheeks. For a long while, they were silent, until Buffy began to cry. "Oh my god, Angel, I'm so sorry. I've been so selfish. I'm so sorry, Angel, I really am."

"Buffy, you don't have to apologize."

She curled up on the couch, let the tears silently stain the pillow in her arms.

Angel spoke up when the tears stopped. "I don't mean to disarm you, you know."

Buffy gave a shaky laugh. "That you do naturally. And that whole rant was more of my frustration at myself."

Another pause, until Buffy sighed. "I just...You're so strong all the time. You've been through hell, and I...I just spent the summer daydreaming and moping and running away and feeling scared. And you're back and all I've done is feel awful at myself. It's just...hard for me. I could've stopped it, I could've-"

"Don't," Angel interrupted harshly.

"No. No. I'm not going to deny-"

"I would have wanted it. I would have done it anyway, if it meant saving-"

"But that's just it. You're so good and so trusting, even now, after everything. And I can't be like that. I feel so...worthless. Why do you want me? How can you—after me not trusting you, chaining you up, going out with that Scott Hope?"

"I can, because I love you," Angel said, "and I know that you love me too."

Buffy smiled. "It feels so good to have you back."

A sweet, lingering pause.

"You're so good to me, you know that? You take me back after all I've done. After me being such a monster. You think I'm such a good person, that I'm somehow so much stronger than you. But I'm a monster. All the years I was Angelius, weren't made up for with the time I spent in hell. It's me who should be begging. It's me who should feel awful."

"Never," Buffy said softly. "That's not true."

"And what you said is?"

Another pause. Buffy smiled. "Thanks, Angel."

She looked down, chancing a glance at her watch. "Oh, I should go. The mom and all that. I'll uh, see you at dawn?"

"At dawn," he nodded. Buffy got up, pulled a sleeve across her face to mask the tears, and headed for the door.

"Don't strain yourself," she said, glancing back. "Stay here."

He nodded, and then she once more retreated into night.

* * *

><p>As she opened the door to her house, she had to smile to herself. Angel had always been able to make her feel better. It shouldn't be surprising that he still did, should it? Yet somehow she couldn't wash the euphoria from her system.<p>

And she felt ready now. She felt...absolved. This thing between them might be far from reasoned out, but she was ready to face the future.

They had spent lifetimes apart from each other. Him in hell, her in a shoddy reality. But they had something between them. Something that could bridge that.

She was ready to deal with consequences now.

_And_ _maybe I'm ready for something with Angel,_ she thought. _Something_ _that'll resemble what we had from before the world became a clusterfuck._

_Fin_


	6. Epilogue: Leaving

**Epilogue: Leaving**

_Author's Note: The night of the band candy incident is the end of the last chapter. No copyright infringement intended (regarding Spike's quote)._

Buffy felt her breath catch.

This was it.

He was really going to leave.

She wanted to go over to him, say goodbye. Kiss him one last time. But she knew that would only make it harder.

She wish she had never killed Angel. She wish Angel had never had his soul taken away. She wished she had never-

No. She wasn't going to regret this. She didn't want to.

But it hurt so bad. She felt so close, yet so far away. Yet that was the way to describe them, wasn't it?

She wanted to cry—not because she was going to have yet another summer of heartache, though that didn't help the tears to stop brimming. No, she wanted to cry because she felt like she had wasted so much time with him.

After she got home that night of the Band Candy Incident, she had felt so hopeful that something could work. And yet, she still held back from him, claiming to only want to be friends.

She saw now, though, that it was futile. It always had been.

Spike was right.

_"You're not friends. You'll never be friends. You'll be in love 'till it kills you both. You'll fight, and you'll shag, and you'll hate each other until it makes you quiver, but you'll never be friends. Love isn't brains, children, it's blood—blood screaming inside you to work its will."_

Spike was right. Love could never be reduced to mere friendship. Not when they had been so close. _So close..._

What was she thinking? _Friendship._ As if.

Buffy understood now, though. She had been so afraid at the time. She wanted forever, but knew she couldn't have it. So she had asked him to stay away.

It seemed so simple now. But she wanted to winced at the memory of the things she said.

They both knew it wouldn't work. They both knew, even though they tried.

They had been silly, trying to avoid the pain. Trying to avoid each other. A natural response, of course, but they were so silly to even think about.

Buffy smiled a bit at the thought. And suddenly, Angel was disappearing in the mist. She hoped he had seen what she was trying to say to him with her eyes: that she would never forget him. Or stop loving him.

Her gut twisted a bit and she grimaced.

She loved him so much.

Spike was right.

How silly they had been.

_This was going to hurt,_ Buffy thought. _But I can deal...right?_

She was determined to become at _least_ a semblance of herself by the time college came around. She knew that she often repressed things, hid them under her slayer duties.

But what else could she do right now? She couldn't just get over him.

Oh god, she loved him so much.

Spike was right.

_It's about time for chocolate,_ she thought.


End file.
